


between a rock and a hard faith

by fruitelves



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Angst, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Jabberwock Island (Dangan Ronpa), M/M, Mental Health Issues, Post-Canon, Recovery, Terminal Illnesses, ie lymphoma and dementia, mentioned tsumioda, or at least attempted recovery, rating might change too, sorry i only write about komaeda being sick, tags will be added later cause im not spoiling yall
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 07:16:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16035596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fruitelves/pseuds/fruitelves
Summary: Enoshima Junko is long dead.Despair has lost and hope reigns victorious over a world slowly rebuilding.Hinata Hajime and Komaeda Nagito want little more than peace, a place to rest their heads, and a future together.Is that too much to ask?Maybe.





	between a rock and a hard faith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everyone, just a few notes on the way names are used in this fic. my headcanon is that post-NWP, class 77 calls each other by last name with no honorific , e.g. Kuzuryuu, Owari, etc. because they're close enough for that. exceptions are 1) Sonia is called by her first name because she's not Japanese 2) Ibuki calls everyone (first name)-chan like she does in the game, e.g. Hajime-chan, and 3) people who are dating call each other by first name, as you can see with Hajime and Nagito and will see later. Characters also refer to themselves with their first names when the chapter is from their perspective because, well, that's how it works i think. thanks :)

“I can’t see from here, Hajime.” The voice crept out from behind the white noise suddenly, with all the force of a creaking door, setting Hajime’s breathing uneven for the hundredth time that day. “Would you mind… putting your arm around me? So I can see over your shoulder?”

Hajime turned his head to face the source of the timid words. Pressed against his shoulder was a long, beautiful face, those huge and sunken eyes staring up at him with all the bloodshot energy stored behind long white lashes. Hajime couldn’t read any emotion in his beloved’s face, the set of chapped lips hanging slightly open as always, as if unable to think of anything to say.

“Of course,” was all he could say, whispering onto frigid skin, slowly removing his left arm(which was half-asleep and tingling from being leaned on for hours) from his side and draping it around the bony shoulders of the man beside him. Hajime then leaned down to plant a gentle and reassuring kiss between his eyes, causing a deep blush to spread across the other’s face.

“Nagito, have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” His voice shook ever so slightly across the small space between the two of them, blood rushing to his cheeks, as if they were 23 again and he was confessing his feelings for the first time on the hull of a ship in the Pacific Ocean. 

“Yes.” Nagito simply blinked, hesitation in his eyelids as they opened again. “All the time.” 

Hajime had to suppress a laugh at his lover’s apathetic response, as if the fact that they were _together_ and _alive_ and _living in Japan_ wasn’t a miracle only two supernaturally lucky people could cause. Unsure of what exactly to say, he just stared into Nagito’s eyes, watching the way they would flutter back and forth from the ceiling, to the window, to Hajime’s eyes, to the book resting unread in his hands.

“Well, I don’t want you to forget,” Hajime said, almost immediately regretting his choice of words. Nagito’s poor memory was part of the reason they were currently sitting on that rock-hard bed, in a bleached-white hospital room, in Kimotsuki. Nagito didn’t seem to notice his insensitivity, though, as his blank facial expression remained unchanged until Hajime leaned forward ever-so-slightly to kiss Nagito so gently Hajime wasn’t sure he was even aware that it happened. 

“I love you, Hajime,” he whispered, breath ghosting across Hajime’s lips, alerting him to the fact that he was in fact aware of the kiss(a genuine concern at times like this), and causing his heart to beat rapidly in his chest. Even after two years together, Hajime still had a hard time comprehending that this was his life, that Komaeda _fucking_ Nagito was his lover, somehow, even after seeing his lifeless body on the floor of a warehouse. Watching Nagito’s face flush a deep red as Hajime leaned forward to kiss him again, this time just a bit more forcefully, just enough to make sure the right emotions were conveyed, he knew that Nagito felt the same way. They were incredibly lucky(dare he say it) just to be able to hold each other, to have peace, to feel any emotion at all(well, that was a blessing for him, but possibly more of a curse for Nagito). Even the most awful or repetitive of days felt new and exciting to them(well, to two of them). Their first few days as a couple, about a week after the final confrontation at the Future Foundation, was spent mostly on a bed in the cabin of the cruise 77, sleeping for 15 hours at a time on that rock-hard mattress like it was made of goose feathers. Even with Tsumiki begging at the door to let her check Nagito’s temperature(he’d had just a bit of a fever the previous week) and Mioda begging them to let her join them in their days-long nap because her own girlfriend insisted on a strict 8 hours a night, they stayed there, clinging to each other through their nightmares, waking only to calm the other when they woke up screaming, or to kiss each others’ necks, or to eat the breakfast that Hanamura had reluctantly prepared. Each of them had gone far too long without the proper touch of another person. They had just been making up for lost time- all the while sleeping just to avoid the painful reality they had awoken to after their digital nightmare.

“I love you s-” Hajime began, his eyes closed and his lips curling up in a smile, forehead pressed against Nagito’s. 

“But I’m scared,” Nagito interrupted before Hajime could finish his thought, causing him to open his eyes and look into Nagito’s, which were just as cavernous and bloodshot as ever, his dark circles always looming like a dark storm on the horizon of his white lashes. He stayed with his forehead against Hajime’s, but was looking at his collarbone and not into his eyes. 

“What if all my hair falls out like when I was sixteen?” His gaze shifted up to meet Hajime’s, and his mouth hung open in his slight, always captivating pout, the question hanging in the space between them(which was not much).

“Er, well…” It wasn’t a question Hajime expected from him. It was a distinct possibility, but with everything they had been through, it didn’t seem like a concern Nagito would have. Just days after the end of the Neo World Program, the rest of them had found Hajime in the bathroom shaving off five feet of slimy, tangled black hair. This prompted a very sick Nagito, foggy-minded and borderline hallucinating from both the shock of waking up and the amount of medication he had been force-fed, to grab the razor from Hajime’s hands(with his own hand, singular) and try to shave his own head, crying and claiming that his hair had been tainted from his days as the servant and that he needed it gone. It had taken 16 seconds for Kuzuryuu to wrestle the razor out of Nagito’s hand without hurting either of them(though it came dangerously close, what with Nagito’s lack of coordination and having one hand), 45 minutes for Sonia to brush and rinse out the knots and bloodied mats of Nagito’s hair, and two months for Hajime’s hair to grow past the scars on his forehead.

“Then we’ll just have to wait for it to grow back so I can brush it again.” Hajime replied confidently, squeezing his companion’s hand and trying to get him to just smile, _please Nagito smile I miss it so much you’re the only light in my world please just once_ , pressing his lips to the soft white hair that covered his forehead in what wasn’t exactly a kiss, more so a taste, as if Hajime could read Nagito’s mind by sucking out his thoughts through his skin. Which, if he could, he can’t say he wouldn’t. 

Brushing Nagito’s hair had become an actual hobby of Hajime’s recently, as it hadn’t been cut in years(no attempts to after the incident with the razor) and was now grown nearly past his shoulders, and Nagito was often either too achey or too weak to brush it himself. The feeling of it between his fingers, sometimes soft as silk but often enough, more recently, tangled and slick with sweat, which was unlike Nagito but out of his control as Hajime couldn’t bathe him 3 times a day as Nagito would like.

“Well… what if it doesn’t?” Nagito asked, frowning slightly in an expression that would be more fitting of an 8 year old child than a grown man. 

“What if… what if your hair doesn’t grow back?”

Nagito just nodded and furrowed his eyebrows further. 

“Babe, you’ve had three different left hands in 25 years. I’m sure your hair will grow back.” Hajime laughed, trying to make light of the situation as he often did(usually failing), as they hadn’t been in any actually lighthearted situations in years. Nagito, however, clearly didn’t appreciate Hajime’s mention of the past, of what he’d done, of the permanent damage to his body, gazing down at the scarred and rounded end of his left arm where his hand used to be, where her hand used to be, where the mechanical miracle Souda and Hajime had made would have been if not for Komaeda’s skin being overly sensitive and constantly itching from the chemotherapy. “And besides, it’s been a few weeks now. I think your hair will be fine.” Hajime punctuated his reassurance by raking his fingers through the hair that fell behind his ears and down his neck, bringing his hands then up to Nagito’s face and kissing him, squeezing his cheeks just a little in a way that he hoped came across as affectionate and not controlling. “Do you trust me?” He was expecting a tangent about bad luck, but the Nagito of the hospital room in Kimotsuki was not the Nagito of Hope’s Peak Academy or the digital mockup of Jabberwock Island.

“Yes.” Nagito kissed him back, apparently feeling much stronger suddenly, adjusting himself so that instead of leaning against Hajime’s shoulder, he was squarely on top of him, his knees in between Hajime’s. He had to be careful when picking himself up, due to not only his own fragility but the wires in his arms that got easily tangled in their limbs and the book that had been resting on his lap that hadn’t gotten read in days. 

It was easy to forget with how sick he’d been just how, well, _insatiable_ Nagito could be when it came to sex(or maybe just when it came to Hajime), but it was always a pleasant reminder when his hands were trailing down Hajime’s chest and across his back. The two of them stayed like that for just a few minutes, just drinking in each others’ tastes and letting their hands stray. 

Nagito’s nimble fingers were just making their way towards Hajime’s waistband when the nurse walked in, the sound of the door crashing against the wall causing Nagito to jump, accidentally hitting Hajime directly in the face with the end of his left arm before he landed correctly in his lap. The two of them laughed ever-so-slightly at both the clumsiness of their separation and the horrified look on the nurse’s face, Hajime feeling tears threatening at the back of his eyes at the sight of his lover smiling, _finally fucking smiling._

“Oh, um, I’m sorry-” the nurse stuttered out, staring at the ground with her eyes wide, a deep red starting at her nose and spreading throughout her face. 

“It’s, um, it’s alright, we didn’t realize it was already 9 o’clock.” The mid-August sun had already sunk into the ocean in a dazzling sunset, blinding light streaming through their window from across the Kagoshima bay. The moon was full and streaming through their window. Nagito had his vitals checked and chemo drugs administered every day at 9 A.M., 3 P.M., and 9. P.M. by nurses that came directly from the Future Foundation. Nobody besides Naegi and his team was allowed to know that the two of them were living in Japan, even if it was temporary, just so Nagito could have some chance of surviving his lymphoma and maybe, _just maybe_ knock out his dementia as well. The rest of the Future Foundation thought that they were still confined to Jabberwock with the rest of their group, and the rest of the planet thought they were lying in wait somewhere to bring about the second apocalypse. It was Naegi who had chosen the town of Kimotsuki for them to live in, designated the hospital Nagito would receive treatment in and bought them their little old one-bedroom house down the street(they slept in the hospital most nights, but on the occasion that Nagito was retaining strength, they were able to leave and have some actual privacy). Also chosen by Naegi was the oncologist, who they only saw once a week for scans unless the nurses found something out of the ordinary in his routine checks. Thankfully, they hadn’t seen her in a few days. 

As the nurse laughed nervously and walked towards the bed, Hajime suddenly became acutely aware of the fact that he wasn’t wearing a shirt and reached to cover himself with the bedsheet, before realizing that the nurse probably knew more about him that he did and it really didn’t matter how much of him she saw. 

“Let’s get to it, then?” She asked simply, not exactly a question, not bothering with formalities since she’d already seen them twice that day and had attended to Nagito yesterday as well. 

“Absolutely,” Hajime answered for both of them, rubbing broad circles on Nagito’s clothed back, trying to reassure him. Nagito, who was now hunched over, legs swung over the side of the bed and his arms wrapped around him, was terrified of the medical for most likely several reasons: 

1\. They had his increasingly delicate life in their hands, and he had already lost it once 

2\. They knew things about him and his boyfriend that nobody was ever supposed to know

3\. He had been in and out of the hospital since he was born, not only for cancer and dementia, but for being born 2 months too early, life-threatening fevers, pneumonia, broken bones, plane crashes, kidnappings, suicide attempts, and an entire other laundry list of things that Hajime could never remember

4\. His brain was deteriorating and everything terrified him.

Hajime watched the nurse run quickly through the routine of weighing him, taking his temperature and blood pressure, applying ointment to his scars, cleaning out the port in his chest, and asking him a series of questions that almost never came with different answers. They always came from Nagito’s throat with a choked sigh, as if he was still making up his mind about whether or not to answer as he did. Hajime made sure he held his hand when the nurse had to draw blood, which happened any time he lost more than half a kilogram from his weight 24 hours ago, his temperature measured at below 36 or above 38, or he complained of anything(anything). Nagito explained to him over and over that needles were the least of his worries, but it make Hajime’s stomach hurt just seeing it go into his boyfriend’s arm, and squeezing his hand comforted him. Obviously, he would never tell Nagito that that was why he always insisted on holding his hand. Luckily, his temperature was a perfect 37 degrees and his weight a far less than perfect, but stable at the very least, 62 kilograms, and of course, he didn’t complain of anything. He’d learned that lesson after a few weeks.

The nurse left afterwards in a hurry, probably unable to get the image of Nagito straddling Hajime out of her mind, and Nagito was now curled up at Hajime’s side again, his head and shaking hand(and end of his arm) on his bare chest. He said nothing for a bit, just letting Hajime stroke his hair. This happened every time the nurse left, and Hajime could only imagine the memories that were running through his head. _Better that than the alternative,_ he supposed. 

“I miss Tsumiki,” Nagito said after a few minutes. Three times a day, every time the nurse left, Nagito missed Tsumiki. It made Hajime a little jealous sometimes, but would stop himself from letting it bother him for a few reasons: 

1) Tsumiki and Nagito were both taken and

2) Not even into each other’s genders 

3) She was the only nurse he trusted

4) Nagito was very vocal about missing everyone on the island. Just yesterday, Mioda had called to check on them and Nagito had cried for hours after, not just because her boisterous voice had aggravated his migraine but because at one point she handed the phone to Koizumi and Pekoyama, and he missed the three of them all so much it nearly gave him a panic attack.

He'd been crying a lot recently. Hajime wished the therapist from the Future Foundation were still around, but after the mess he'd seem them as on the island after the NWP, he refused to work with them, and was fired afterwards. The doctors could work with the 25 year old terrorist when he was little more than a skeleton with blood cancer, but nobody wants to hear stories from the mind of the woman who took out the prime minister with a bamboo sword. 

“I miss her too, sweetie," Hajime said, taking a deep breath and making sure what he said wouldn't further upset his boyfriend, "but Tsumiki isn't a nurse anymore. You have to trust what Naegi wants us to do, okay?" He swallowed and closed his eyes, knowing that the look on Nagito's face was probably less than pleased. "We just have to keep going."

And, _well, fuck_. A choked sob escaped from Nagito's throat and before Hajime could process anything that was happening, he was sobbing again, sitting up in bed and covering his face with his hand. He looked small, as he often did, his robe bunching up at his shoulders and his waist, giving the appearance of a shrinking man. 

Hajime quickly came to his senses, adjusting himself so that the two of them were facing each other, and wrapped his arms around Nagito, who didn't resist but didn't lean in or hug him back, just continued to sob loudly into his palm. "Oh my god, I'm... I'm so sorry, Nagito." He wasn't sure exactly what it was about his insistence that send Nagito over the edge(or if he was even crying in response to Hajime and not something completely unrelated), but he'd long since learned that it was best to just apologize and try to calm him down, admit to being wrong no matter what. There was usually no getting through to him through the thick fog of his medicine and deteriorating mind, and there was no point in letting Nagito spiral out of control for the sake of his own ego. It wasn't Nagito being manipulative, it was the very makeup of his brain that made him unable to understand other people most of the time. "I know how-"

"It's not fair, Hajime." Nagito's tone was matter-of-fact despite how badly he was shaking. He finally wrapped his arms around Hajime, the nails on his hand digging into his unclothed back as he cried into his chest. "Tsumiki isn't a nurse anymore, Souda's not a mechanic, Izuru is gone-" the mention of his other name made Hajime's stomach hurt, but he had gotten used to Nagito casually bringing him up, pretending that he wasn't always right there, "-but I'm not like you all. I can't put away my talent for another day. I didn't ask for it and I didn't train for it, but it'll kill me soon anyway. It's not fair."

"I know it's not. You're right. I'm sorry." Hajime let one hand rest in Nagito's hair, the only place he ever knew it belonged, the two of them clinging to each other for just a moment before Hajime pulled away from the embrace, the two of them now at eye level with each other like when they stood up. "But don't say 'soon' about anything like that, okay? I'm not letting that happen. Naegi won't let that happen. And you aren't gonna let that happen either, okay?" 

"Hajime..." Nagito looked down, wiping away a tear with his stumped wrist. 

"Okay? I'm not taking no for an answer." Hajime insisted. He had to be firm sometimes; it was just how the two of them were used to communicating, and even in periods of time like these when his mental state was declining, Nagito needed the old Hajime, his investigation partner, his friend, the block-headed reserve course student, just as much as he needed his reassuring and too-careful boyfriend. 

"Sure." Nagito looked up at him then with tired eyes, a sad smile slowly turning its way up onto his thin face, like he didn't believe what he was saying. Hajime knew that Nagito wasn't a liar, but didn't want to hurt Hajime any more than what was out of his control. "I'm kind of tired, Hajime. Can we read that book, just until I fall asleep?" 

"Of course." They'd been trying to read a book recommended by Fukawa for the past few days, but kept getting interrupted by nurses or phone calls or headaches or Nagito's sex drive. It was now on the floor across the room from them, after Nagito had knocked it off the bed when crawling into Hajime's lap just a little while ago. Hajime got off the bed, realizing just how tense he'd been after sitting for so long and taking a moment to stretch. 

He bent over to pick up the book, stopping for a second to actually read the back cover. Fukawa said it was about a group of men in America who go through their lives together, and that the two main characters(who she said reminded her of Hajime and Nagito, one for his stunning good looks and idiotic charm and the other for his horrific backstory and self-destructive tendencies, which painted an odd image of the book) ended up falling in love. On the cover was a picture of a man, probably the same age as Hajime, in what was either horrible pain or the middle of an orgasm. He supposed from Fukawa’s brief review that it could be either, though he would be unable to confirm either, because as he discovered when he turned the book to the other side, the book was in English. Hajime had no idea that Fukawa even spoke English, and it took him a moment for him to realize why she assumed he did. 

Izuru spoke English. Hajime didn’t. He knew he could get at that skill if he really tried, but he certainly didn’t want to, for fear of awakening… well, all of that. 

Nagito spoke English. He found this out during the Neo World Program, when he and Sonia would have full conversations in front of everyone as if to taunt them. He guessed he would ask Nagito to read it aloud and translate it for him, though it might make him feel like a child. If the book’s good enough, he supposed, it would be worth it. 

“Hey Nagi-” Hajime started, stopping when he turned to face the bed and found Nagito already peacefully sleeping, his hand under the pillow and his wrist under his cheek, his mouth hanging open like it always did when he was dreaming. 

I guess we’ll have to wait for tomorrow again, Hajime thought, putting the book down on the bedside table and turning off the light. Making sure not to disturb his sleeping partner, Hajime crawled underneath the thin sheet(it was a hot and humid August). He gingerly wrapped his arms around Nagito and closed the space between the two of them, holding Nagito’s face to his chest and kissing him atop the head, taking in the scent of his hair, his skin, his hospital gown, his medicine, any piece of Komaeda Nagito he could savor. 

“I hope your dreams are pleasant, baby,” he said to the sleeping body, “and I hope tomorrow is a better day.” He said both of these things every night for nearly a year now, only after Nagito had fallen asleep, as he was still afraid of sounding silly or too childish. Even on days that weren’t particularly bad, or even days that he would consider a genuinely good day(though these were not common), he hoped for a better day ahead of them. They deserved better days. 

Well, no, they didn’t. But he wanted them to have good days, and there was no harm in hoping.

 _Now I sound like Nagito_ , Hajime thought with a laugh, closing his eyes and letting exhaustion overcome him. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A familiar 3-tone song woke Hajime with a start. It was still pitch-dark out, the moon having barely moved position since he fell asleep, and Nagito was still safely tucked between his arms, breathing steadily. It took him a moment to register that his phone was ringing, given as it very rarely did(he usually had to call the island, not the other way around) and especially not this late. 

12:43 A.M., the phone read.  
Incoming call- Naegi Makoto.

“Naegi?” Hinata whispered in order to not wake Nagito, his voice a bit rough since he’d been sleeping for about 3 hours. He gingerly got up from the hospital bed and began to pace around the room, the prospect of Naegi calling at 1 terrifying him even without any words having been exchanged. “What’s going on?”

“Hinata-san,” Naegi started, the urgency in his usually overly friendly voice causing Hajime’s stomach to twist into knots. “I’m going to talk and you are going to listen without interrupting me. Okay?”

Hajime took a deep breath and swallowed the lump in his throat. Nothing about this was looking good. He glanced over at Nagito, who was now slowly sitting up and wiping the sleep from his eyes, looking over at Hajime with confusion written all over his face. Who is that?, he mouthed. 

“Babe, go back to sleep,” Hajime whispered to Nagito, but his request was not fulfilled. 

“What?” Naegi asked on the other line, as Hajime once again spoke much louder than he’d intended to. 

“No, I was talking to Nagito. Go ahead, Naegi.” 

“You have to get out of Japan.” Hajime felt his hand tense around his cell phone, his heart stop in his chest, and every muscle in his body tighten. 

“The Japanese government is rebuilding and they’ve seen the video you all left pleading guilty to the Future Foundation killing game and claiming that you’re still in despair. And they’re after you. They think you’re hiding somewhere in Japan, which you and Komaeda-san are, and they’re looking for you. They will find you and they will not hesitate to kill you.”

This was a joke. It had to be a joke. Or a dream. The night was still pouring in through the window, the light of the moon dancing across Nagito’s face and lighting up his eyes, making them look grayer than usual and appear as if they themselves were full moons. The patterns on the linoleum were moving, shifting beneath Hajime’s feet. It had to be a dream. 

No, it wasn’t. He was just getting dizzy.

“My team is sending a boat from Yakohama to Kimotsuki as we speak. Pack now. You’ll get on it the minute it docks in your bay and you’ll leave then. You’re going back to Jabberwock Island, you’ll be there in about three days.”

“Naegi-”

“Hinata-san, I don’t like this either. But you have to trust me. I got arrested for treason for protecting you, I’m not going to make you do anything I don’t think is absolutely necessary.  
Your lives are on the line. Please just listen.” As always, he was convincing. Hinata had no idea how he did that. But there was something Naegi wasn’t considering.

“But what about Nagito?” Hajime turned and looked at him, seeing the fear in his eyes at his name being used in a conversation that was clearly not about good news. His eyes as wide as dinner plates and his hand and wrist stuck between his thighs as he sat up, he looked like a wind up doll ready to explode. Hajime hated seeing him in such an anxious state. He lowered his voice and turned to face the wall again. “He needs this treatment or… he’ll die.” Hajime swallowed and forced himself not to turn around.

“Hinata-san, if you don’t get out of there, both of you will die. Don’t be a hero, please.” Being lectured by his junior made him feel small. The situation made him feel small. Naegi’s words made him feel sick.

Don’t be a hero. Don’t be a hero.

If only someone were there to tell him that when he was 17 and signing consent forms to get his brain sawed in half. 

“Okay.” He said it reluctantly. But there was nothing else he could do.

“Thank you. I promise it’s not forever. I’m going to try to talk to the people at the top. I’ll try to work something out. But in the meantime, you _have_ to stay hidden.”

They both stayed quiet for a minute.

“Call me when you get on the boat.” Hajime heard Naegi sigh over the line. “Good luck, Hinata-san.” There was a click, and the line went dead.

_Good luck._

Hajime turned around and saw Nagito standing next to the bed, legs quivering, staring at Hajime with a look that would be more befitting of the first victim in a horror movie. “Hajime…” he said, stuttering slightly, breathing heavily with his hand on his heaving chest, “what’s happening? Where are we… what are… was Naegi saying?” Am I going to die?”  
Hajime said nothing. For once, he couldn’t think of anything that could comfort Nagito that wasn’t a complete lie. He was just as lost as he was waking up on an island for the first time all those years ago. 

All he could do was grab Nagito by the shoulders and embrace him, kissing him on the cheek and then placing his head so that it rested on his shoulder. Something wet dripped onto his back with every rise and fall of Nagito’s chest. He resisted the urge to cry himself, fearing what Nagito could become without Hajime holding him together. 

“What’s going on, Hajime?” Nagito pleaded, pulling away from the embrace and looking directly into Hajime’s eyes through his tears. As dark as it was, Nagito was so pale in his entirety that Hajime could see every quiver of his lips and wrinkles in the furrow of his eyebrows.

“We have to go, sweetie,” he said, once again taking Nagito in his arms. He couldn’t bear to look at the pain in his lover’s face. The world spun around him as he breathed in, unsure of what type of future the two of them were about to head into. “We have to go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading!!!!! sorry this chapter is so short and weird and dramatic. i promise the rest of the story will have more legitimate plot i think. 
> 
> the English book that Hajime and Nagito were trying to read is actually called A Little Life and it’s by Hanya Yanagihara. It’s my favorite and you should give it a shot if you like beautiful words and sadness
> 
> MAJOR SHOUTOUT TO thx4thevenombby for giving me the name Cruise 77 and also for helping me a ton with the writing process!! shes not only a great writer but a very cool person and good friend <3
> 
> and yes, there will be more to the tsumioda and the other ships i plan on including~
> 
> just an fyi, this story will probably be pretty slow to update due to my school schedule but i promise i'll always come back :) love ya


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